Five, Six, Seven, Eight
by Saran VD
Summary: Mimi quits the Catsratch and works... you'll see. postRENT
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hee. Fun idea. Wait until you see where Mimi's working…**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight…

**Chapter 1**

It was three AM. Mimi threw her bag on the couch in the loft. She kicked off her black faux-leather boots and walked barefoot quietly into her and Roger's room. She kissed his cheek as he slept. "Hey, Rog. I'm home."

Roger rolled over and stared at her through his half-open eyes. "Hey, Meems," he mumbled. "Why are you so late?"

"I'm always late coming home. You know that."

Roger groaned. "Why can't you work the day shift?"

She laughed and crawled into bed next to him. "There _is_ no day shift at the Catscratch Club."

"Well, work somewhere that there is one. That way, I can sleep."

"_You_ can sleep? You aren't the one giving lap dances to strangers all night!" Mimi teased.

Roger's snores meant that he had fallen back to sleep.

Mimi couldn't sleep, though. She couldn't help but think about what Roger had said. Maybe he was right. Maybe she _was_ out too late. If only there was another job for her…

* * *

Mimi, as usual, didn't wake up until around noon. Roger had woken up at seven, and was already wide-awake.

"Hey, Mimi," said Roger, taking a sip out of his coffee cup. "Have a nice sleep?"

She nodded groggily. "Wish I could've slept longer."

"If you went to sleep earlier, you could sleep for longer."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Roger, don't be so mean to Mimi this early. You know she's cranky when she first wakes up," Mark said over his newspaper.

Mimi nodded in agreement.

"Hey, Meems!" said Mark. "I found a job for you."

"Where?" she asked hazily.

"Pierre's Dance Studio needs an instructor for their beginning ballet class."

Roger spit out his coffee. Mimi's eyes fully opened.

"WHAT?!" they said simultaneously.

"You wanna teach a dance class?" asked Mark.

Mimi nodded. "Always have."

Roger stared at her. "So you're going to quit the Catscratch, then?"

Mimi nodded.

"If that's what it takes to make you quit that place, then okay!"

She grinned and pecked Roger on the cheek. "I need to practice my combination for later."

"You need to practice a combination? Why?"

"They need to know that I can dance!" She ran down the fire escape into the alley.

"I hope she knows I was joking…" said Mark.

"There's no job opening?" asked Roger.

"There is. But I didn't really mean for her to go after it…"

"Well, too bad. She is."

"I never knew she was a ballet dancer."

"Yeah, she is, are you kidding?"

"Huh?"

"She's been in ballet since she was four."

Mark peered at Roger over his paper. "No joke?"

"Nope."

Mark kept reading.

* * *

"Hey, guys!" said Maureen, who decided to come over with Joanne. "Where's Mimi?"

"Outside," said both Roger and Mark.

"In this weather?" gasped Joanne.

"She's practicing for a job interview later," Roger explained.

"I'll help her!" chirped Maureen, and she rushed out the fire escape.

* * *

"… Chasé, plié in second, double pirouette, and finish," Mimi whispered silently to herself. She wore her pajamas and was barefoot.

"Hey, Mimi!" called Maureen. "Whatcha doing?"

"Practicing. I haven't done this combination since I was fifteen."

"Huh?"

"I'm gonna be a ballet teacher."

"You? I don't know if parents will want a stripper teaching their little darlings."

Mimi glared at her. "Thanks for the support."

"It's cold. Do you want a sweater?" asked Maureen, quickly changing the subject.

"Please. And could you get my pointe shoes? They're under my bed."

Maureen nodded and went back up.

When she came back, she carried a black sweater and a pair of old, beat-up pointe shoes. "These are what you wanted, right?" she asked hopefully, handing them to Mimi.

Mimi nodded and quickly put the shoes on. She pointed and flexed her feet a few times. "I can't believe they still fit."

Maureen smiled and nodded.

"Wanna see my combo?"

The diva nodded.

"…Five, six, seven, eight," she counted softly, and then she began.

In Maureen's eyes, it was a perfect performance. She could hardly believe how elegant Mimi was. Even with her pajama pant legs rolled up past her knees and a pair of old pink shoes that the satin was peeling off of on her feet, she was beautiful. Her curly dark brown hair whirled around her face with each turn. When Mimi finished, Maureen rose to her feet, applauding.

"You've got it! You are _so_ gonna get this job!" she cheered.

Mimi blushed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Heh. It's audition time! GO MIMI! (Cheers for Mimi). Sorry. But first, time to talk to Roger and Marky! Oh, and for those of you who were wondering about Mimi's poor feet, it's in this chappie.**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 2_

Mimi walked back into the loft at Maureen's heels. When the two got inside, Mimi collapsed onto the couch, took her shoes off, and began massaging her poor feet.

Roger looked at her, taking in everything from her pant legs being rolled up to her red, beat up feet. "What did you _do_ to yourself?"

Mimi smiled at him. "I danced on pointe," she said simply.

"Why did you do that? Look at what it does to you!"

"Well, for one, it looks good if I know how to dance on pointe. And I need all the help I can get if I want this job, which I do."

"Why? You can dance, what more do they need?" asked Mark.

"Well, I have been working at the Catscratch for quite some time now," Mimi pointed out. "and I don't have any professional dance experience, either. So I need anything. Besides, it's a standard in the ballet world. You get a job as a professional ballet something, and you have to know pointe. At least, if you're a woman you do."

"You learn something every day," noted Roger.

Joanne nodded her agreement. "It's true."

Maureen, Roger, Mimi, and Mark all stared at her.

"Pookie…"

Mimi glanced at the clock. "Oh, shit! I need to get into some dance stuff." She rushed into her room.

When she had changed, she was wearing a black leotard and pink tights, along with a short rose-colored skirt. The leotard was a spaghetti-strap style, with criss-crossing straps in the back. The collar was low, lower than it should be because the leotard didn't quite fit over her chest anymore, doing to the fact that she hadn't worn it since she was fifteen.

Roger smiled at her when she came out. "Nice, Meems. If it means seeing you in those clothes, I'm going to take that class."

Mimi glared at him. "Joanne, can you give me a ride? I kind of don't want to go on a taxi in these clothes."

Joanne nodded.

* * *

When they got to the studio, Joanne waited in the car while Mimi went in. She grabbed her pointe shoes and her tape with her music on it and walked in. 

Pierre was an older man with a pencil mustache. He smiled at her, clearly not thinking she was cut out for it. "Well, Miss, what's your name?"

"Mimi Marquez," she replied.

"Mm, hm," he said, writing it down on a piece of paper.

She smiled and put on her pointe shoes. Making sure the ribbons were snug, she serenely walked over and put her tape in the player. "Can I start?"

He seemed surprised that she was getting right to it like this. "Whenever you're ready."

She took a deep breath, quickly stretched, and began.

This performance was much better than the one she had done for Maureen in the alley. She was dancing full-out now, better than before, and it seemed that it was an easy choice for Pierre, especially because no one else had shown any interest in the job.

When Mimi was finished, she curtsied, took off her pointe shoes, slipped on her boots, and left.

* * *

Pierre called later that evening. Maureen decided to be weird and answer her friend's phone without screening. "Hey there!" 

Clearly she thought it would be someone else.

"Um. Well, can I please speak with Mimi Marquez?"

"Hang on. MIMI!" she shrieked.

"Hello?" asked Mimi, taking the phone from her friend.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, friend. She likes answering the phone."

"I noticed. Anyway, Miss Marquez, I called to tell you that you will be teaching the Saturday morning pre-ballet class for toddlers and all the weekday adult Ballet 1 classes," Pierre said.

Mimi gasped. "Really? I will?"

"That's what I said…" She could tell he was smiling. "I'll see you this Saturday. And you may want to get a new pair of ballet shoes."

Mimi grinned. "I will. Bye."

"Bye."

The phones were hung up, and Mimi cheered. "NO MORE CATSRATCH CLUB!"

Roger laughed. "That's great. So, when do you start?"

"Saturday. I'm gonna need to get some new ballet shoes, though."

Joanne, who was also at the loft, looked a little nervous. "Aren't pointe shoes expensive?"

"I don't need pointe shoes. They can just be canvas ballet slippers. I'm teaching four year olds and adults with two left feet."

"I'll drop you off at a dance store later," promised Joanne.

"Thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter 3 (AT LAST!) You may ask, why update this? Well, this is the one that people (coughSKYLARcough) have been asking me to update! I based the students off of my friends, and if u wanna be and OC student, just leave me a description in your review.**

**Oh, and New Attitude is actually the name of a dance store I go to.**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight…

**Chapter 3**

"Hello," said the teenage girl at the dance store as Mimi walked in on Saturday, "and welcome to New Attitude. How may I help you?"

"I need some new ballet slippers. And a leotard, and tights, but I can get those myself," Mimi ticked off on her fingers.

The girl smiled and led Mimi to the corner with the shoes. "Now, what kind of ballet shoes did you need?"

Mimi blushed and mumbled, "Something inexpensive."

"Then let's go with these." The girl turned to the shelves and asked Mimi over her shoulder, "What shoe size are you?"

"Six," said Mimi. "I've got small feet."

The girl grabbed a pair of size seven pale pink canvas ballet shoes in a mesh bag. "Try these."

Mimi pulled off one of her black boots, then the other, and pulled on the ballet slippers over her fishnets. The girl pulled the laces tight around Mimi's foot. Even though the strings were pulled tight, the shoes were a little too wide.

The girl sighed. "Down a half size, I think." She handed Mimi a pair of size six-and-a-half shoes. They fit perfectly. "Well that was easy. You need a leotard? What color?"

Mimi shrugged. "I'll just look around."

"Lemme know if you need help, okay?"

"Sure…" Mimi muttered, and she started browsing around. After looking at every single leotard in a size small that the store had, she picked one and discovered… it was too small. Mimi groaned and grabbed a medium to try on. It fit, thank god. Now she just had to choose the color…

"What do you need the leotard for? A class?" The girl popped up behind Mimi.

Mimi jumped. "Yeah. I'm teaching."

The girl looked long and hard at Mimi, surveying everything from skin tone to hair color to bra size (Mimi blushed when she realized that the girl was trying to figure out if Mimi was an A or B cup). "Hot pink," she finally said, thrusting a size medium, long-sleeved, hot pink leotard into Mimi's arms.

"No way!" Mimi hung it up. "I'm getting black," she said, picking a leotard similar to her old one. "Now, tights…" And before the girl could say a word Mimi grabbed the least expensive pair of size small/medium pink convertible dance tights she could find. "That'll be all."

The girl rung up Mimi's purchases. "$46.72," she stated, and Mimi, blushing, handed her a wad of crumpled twenties generously donated by Mark and Joanne. The girl gave Mimi her change, and Mimi ran to meet Joanne, who was in the car, reading as she waited.

* * *

Mimi arrived to the toddler class half an hour early. She headed off to the dressing room to change, and on her way in nearly ran into a young woman. She looked to be not much older than Mimi herself. She was tall, slender, and clearly strong. She was wearing a hot pink (Mimi cringed) leotard and white tights. On her feet were pointe shoes. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were a pale blue-green. 

"Sorry," said Mimi, getting out of the girl's way.

The girl smiled warmly at Mimi. "No problem. You the new teacher of the pre-ballet class?"

Mimi nodded. "Mimi Marquez."

The blonde held out her hand. "Aina. I'm Pierre's niece. I was teaching the class, aw hell, I was teaching _all_ the classes, until you showed up. Thanks for that. I couldn't handle 12 classes a week. Twelve hours of dancing each week, plus school, plus auditions."

Aina was younger than she looked, Mimi decided. She smiled. "It must've been tough."

She snorted. "You bet. Still is. Once Uncle Pierre trusts you more, he'll let you teach more classes. But he still won't even let me teach any of the jazz classes. You should take one," she added, "they're excellent. But my uncle's _really_ picky about how they're taught."

"So you didn't teach all the classes, then."

"Nope. Almost. But jazz is Pierre's baby. I teach tap, pointe, ballet, musical theater, ect."

"Sounds fun."

"It is. But it's so damn exhausting!" She sighed. "Twelve classes a week, plus I'm in Jazz 4 here, _plus_ I have my senior year of high school to worry about."

Mimi nodded. "That's gotta be hard. But I really need to change…"

"Oh, sorry," said Aina with a laugh. "Go ahead."

Mimi changed, and walked out of the dressing room into chaos. A small, three year old black-haired girl was chasing after a tall four year old boy. The four year old looked terrified. Aina grinned. "The little girl is Tina. The little boy is Frankie. As you can tell, they just love each other. I had them last session. They were a handful."

Mimi gulped. Exactly what she needed.

"I'm gonna get you, Fwankie!" yelled Tina, her dark blue eyes sparkling.

Frankie ran faster, right into Mimi.

"OOOOOOOOOO FWANKIE!!!!!!" called Tina. "You wan into da teachew."

Mimi forced a smile and grabbed Frankie by the shoulders. "Try not to run next time, ok?"

"She started it," he pouted, pointing at Tina. Tina stuck out her tongue.

"I don't care who started it. One of you needs to end it if you wanna go to class."

"But I don't wanna go to class!" Frankie objected, planting his hands on his hips. "My Gramma makes me go. I don't like to dance. I WANNA TO KARATE! HI-YA!" He aimed a wild kick at Tina, which the girl easily dodged. She laughed at him, which enraged Frankie all the more.

"I'm gonna get you someday!" Frankie vowed.

Tina laughed again. "You've been saying that fowevew!"

Aina rubbed Mimi's shoulder. "Here come the rest of them. Good luck. Bueno suerte." Mimi smiled weakly at her. The Catscratch was starting to look like a better place for her.

* * *

**Friends in order of appearance... Skylar, Amy, and Silvana as Aina, Tina, and Frankie, respectively. Aina is pronounced AWN-ya. Thanks for the pronunciation, Skylar!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: SORRY! I'm not dead! I've just been busy lately, long story... anyway, here's the update!**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 4_

Mimi came home and tossed her bag onto the couch, sighing loudly. She still wore her leotard and tights with her skirt and boots layered on top.

"Hey, Mimi," said Mark as he passed with a giant film canister in his arms. She waved weakly. "Tired?"

"You would not believe how hyper four year olds can be."

"Try me."

"Okay, so there are two kids hell-bent on killing each other. Then there's this one little girl who is determined to make my life hell. And _then_ there's the director's daughter, Aine, trying to give me advice that I obviously don't need and then…"

"Is Mimi finally home?" called Roger from the bedroom.

"Yes," she called back, "Mimi's home, and Mimi's pissed."

Roger joined them. "I thought I heard you yelling."

"Um, I didn't see you trying to teach four year olds for the past hour."

"Calm down, Meems," said Roger, backing away from her like she was a rattlesnake.

"I can't. I'm so stressed. And, I mean, damn, you'd think that these kids would admire me, you know? That they'd think of me as a leader. But they don't. They're so damn stubborn. Fuck it; I think I was better off at the Catscratch." She said this all very fast.

Roger and Mark looked at each other, not sure how to deal with the monster that they had helped create.

"Hey guys!" called a familiar, chipper voice.

Roger and Mark sighed in relief. Who was better at calming Mimi down than Angel?

"I heard you yelling from outside," Angel noted, coming in, as usual, through the fire escape.

Mimi's ears turned red.

"What, were the little children putting you through the paces?"

"Huh?"

Angel ran her pale fingers through her wig. "Mimi, chica, you have quite a bit to learn. Kids _like_ to make you miserable. They need some sense of power."

"So they're _power-hungry_?"

"Yep."

"I'm quitting," said Mimi, heading over to the phone. Angel grabbed her arm before she could get there.

"Wait. It's an hour a week. You can handle it."

"Get off of me!"

"No," replied the drag queen coolly. "I know what you're going through. I baby-sat in high school."

"You did?" asked the other three in unison.

"Yeah, until the kids' mom realized I was really a guy. I still remember their names. The younger girl was Tally, and her older sister's name was Marie."

You could've heard a pin drop.

"What?!"

"You just don't seem the type," said Mimi, starting to giggle.

"Well, you don't seem like the type that would teach ballet, either. You don't even look like a dancer," retorted Angel, starting to get pissed.

Mimi was stung. She muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "you motherfucking faggot," and ran into her room to change.

Angel, Roger, and Mark all glanced at each other. The silence hung heavily in the room.

"Mimi, I brought you flowers!" called Maureen, dashing happily into the loft with a bouquet of daisies. "Where's Mimi?" she asked, once she noticed that Mimi wasn't there.

"In her room, sobbing," muttered Angel.

"Roger, what did you do?" asked Maureen, turning on him.

"Why is it my fault?!" asked Roger.

"You're her boyfriend. What did you do?"

"Nothing! It was Angel!"

"Angel? Bullshit!"

"It's true," said Mark, who was still holding the film canister.

Maureen pivoted sharply, causing her curls to fly around her face.

"Guilty," said Angel, flinching as Maureen swung to hit her.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing! _Nothing_!"

"See, this is what real jobs do to people," noted Roger. "Mark's been like this ever since he started to work at Buzzline, Joanne's been all uptight _forever_, and now look at Meems."

Mark looked venomous.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'M NOT DEAD YET! I just had my life eaten by _Peter Pan_ at my school. But now it's over… (Sobs) At least I'll be able to update now:-)**

**This chapter'll be extra long to make up for lost time. Fair?**

**Disclaimer: If the characters were mine, I would a) be dead and b) leave behind people who are getting quite a bit of money for my work. The plot, however, was mine! I own the rights to Aine (sorta), Tina (kinda), and Frankie (in a way). So if you wanna use them you'll have to call my lawyer!**

**Thimbles, and on with the fic!  
****SARAN VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 5_

Mimi decided that she hated hormones. She had collapsed on her bed, trying to figure out what made her call Angel such an _awful_ name. Slowly, without thought and without caring, she changed out of her dance clothes and into a plaid mini skirt with black fishnets and a black sweater. Still feeling guilty about the whole mess, she decided to go apologize. Sighing, she opened the door to her bedroom and left the room.

As she headed out, the phone rang, and Mimi rushed back into her room to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Mimi? It's Aine."

"Oh," said Mimi, trying not to show her disappointment in her voice, "hey."

"What is it? How did the class go?"

"Aw, it was hell, to be honest."

Aine laughed. "I have a proposition."

"Speak."

"The community center near the studio is having an all-ages dance party. Wanna go with me?"

"Is there going to be alcohol?"

"You need an ID."

"Damn."

"You don't have an ID?" Aine paused. "Mimi, how old _are_ you?"

"I turn 20 next month?"

Aine sighed. "No alcohol for you, then."

"Can I bring some friends?" she asked, thinking that it would be a good way to make up with Angel.

"Sure, fine with me. It's a free party anyway."

"Thank God," Mimi muttered.

"Why?"

Mimi didn't answer. "What time?"

"Starts at 7, ends at like 3 AM."

"I'll be there."

The girls hung up.

Mimi headed back into the "living room", if you could really call it that. "Hey guys."

"Oh, so you _did_ answer the phone. I was wondering," noted Roger, not really interested.

"How would you guys like to go to a dance tonight?"

You could've heard a pin drop.

"A _dance_? Mimi, you know I don't dance," said both Roger and Mark at the same time.

"There's going to be alcohol there. For free," she said tantalizingly.

Everyone in the room perked up. "I'll go!" they said simultaneously.

* * *

"Mimi! Good to see you!" said Aine, smiling and pulling Mimi into a hug.

Mimi tried not to show how much that scared her. "Hey, Aine." Then she turned to Roger, Mark, Angel, Collins, Maureen, and Joanne, who all had varying stages of awkwardness on their faces. "These are my friends Mark, Angel, Collins, Maureen, and Joanne."

"Hey!" snapped Roger, as Mimi opened her mouth to introduce him.

"Oh, shut up!" she laughed. "This is my boyfriend, Roger."

Aine smiled politely. "Well, Mimi, I think that we should have a dance-off."

"A dance-off?" Mimi was nonplussed.

"Yeah. My friends versus your friends." As if on cue, the _entire_ varsity cheerleading squad of one of the area high schools (Mimi couldn't keep track anymore) bustled over, all trying to talk to Aine at the same time.

Mimi gulped. Cheerleaders were no problem for _her_; she could beat them any day. It was the Bohemians she worried about. She turned to them. "Well guys?" she said, her voice quivering with nerves. "Shall we?"

"YES!" whooped Maureen and Angel, while everyone else screamed, "NO!"

Aine and the cheerleaders laughed. "Well, then, I guess not. But, by the end of the night, Meems"-Mimi gulped, Aine calling her Meems was unnerving-"the two of us will have turned your friends into dancers to make any professional dancer jealous."

Mimi forced a smile. "Why not?"

And so began the conversion of the Bohemians into "dancers". The first victim was Joanne, who decided in the two minutes that she spent with Aine that dancing sucked.

The next victim was Maureen, who insisted she could dance, yet kept tripping over herself. She later insisted that it was because Aine looked so hot in a mini, which earned her a slap from Joanne.

Angel and Collins managed to merge into the crowd and get lost, so that left Mark, since Mimi promised that she would teach Roger.

"Alright," said Aine, grinning widely at Mark. "You're…?"

"Mark Cohen."

"Right. Now, Mark, have you _ever_ danced before?"

"I can tango."

"Really?" said Aine, impressed. "That's one dance I've never been able to do. Wanna help me?"

"You, whose father owns a dance studio, cannot tango?" asked Mark in surprise.

"Actually, he's my uncle, and yes, I can't tango."

"Whoa."

Aine laughed. "So, are you going to teach me or not?"

"Um," said Mark, his eyes searching for an escape, "aren't you going to teach me to dance?"

"No," said Aine, "not until you teach me to tango."

Seeing no other way out of it, Mark tentatively grabbed her hand, took her waist, and awkwardly taught Aine to tango. Lucky for him, she learned quickly.

Meanwhile, Roger was spying on him over his cup of beer. It took all of his willpower not to wolf-whistle at Mark at that moment. "Look," he hissed at Mimi, who was sulking and jealous because all of the Bohemians but her could drink, "Marky's got a girlfriend."

"They're just dancing."

"Yeah, but look. He's blushing."

"It's a trick of the light."

"No, it isn't! Anyway, if they don't get together, we should set them up. They're both short, pale, and blonde."

"Um, Aine's in _high school_ and Mark is 22. And their personalities may not mix."

"They do mix!"

How do you know?"

"Mark. Is. _Blushing_."

"Ohmigod, he is."

Roger rolled his eyes. "So what do we do?"

"Set them up! Blind date!"

"What if Aine has a boyfriend?" asked Maureen, who had been listening in on the conversation.

"I can find that out _easily_," boasted Mimi. She marched up to Aine, who was at the punch bowl, and asked, "Aine, are you seeing anyone?"

"I'm not if Mark's not," she said simply, which made Roger, Angel, Collins (who both decided to reappear), Maureen, and Joanne squeal in delight.

Later that night, someone (Roger) requested some tango music, and Mark shyly asked Aine to dance. She said yes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, since SOMEONE (I'm not naming names) wants me to update this so badly, I will. This SOMEONE (still not naming names) won't let me rest until I update. At least SOMEONE (I'm STILL not naming names!) is all excited and fangirl-ish about this fic!**

**Oh, and I describe ballet positions in this chapter. If you don't know what something is, wikipedia should have it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own, I RENT.**

**THIMBLES!**

**Saran VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 6_

They left the party at three AM. They had wanted to leave earlier and go to the Life (Mimi most of all, she wanted some alcoholic beverages ASAP), but Aine insisted that they stay. The only person who didn't have a problem with it was Mark.

When they finally got back to the loft, Roger immediately began his favorite pastime: teasing Mark Cohen about his love life.

"Marky's got a girlfriend!" he sing-songed, and Mark glared at him.

"Not yet," he muttered. "She's not my girlfriend yet."

"She's in _high school_," Mimi pointed out.

"Yeah," said Roger. "Why are you dating a high school girl? I don't even know if that's legal!"

"She's eighteen, she can do what she wants! She's graduating soon anyway, and joining the New York City Ballet."

"How do you know more about her than _I_ do?" Mimi asked incredulously.

Mark shrugged. "I listen."

"I listen too," she grumbled.

"Mimi!" Roger said quickly, interrupting before she could get all moody and completely destroy them both. He knew she didn't have a good evening. "Why don't you _listen_ and see if she says anything about Mark in the next couple of days?"

Mimi smirked, which was a "yes".

* * *

But Mimi quickly grew tired of listening. In the five minutes before the Monday class started, Aine drilled her on everything related to Mark Cohen: past relationships, personality, interests, style (Mimi was particularly amused by that one). _Blech_.

At seven, Mimi gratefully entered the studio. There were only three people in there, and two of them seemed to have the same build: tall, gangly sticks. One of these two was a young man with an insane mop of dark curls. The other was a young woman with an insane mop of dark curls. The main difference between them was that the man seemed dull and sleepy, while the woman looked like she had just consumed several shots of caffeine. That, and that one was a man, and the other was a woman.

The final person, who was also younger, probably in her late twenties, was comparatively normal. She had stick-straight brown hair and dark brown eyes, but in a simple way she was pretty. She was tall, and she had clearly taken dance before, because she stood patiently at the barre in first position. She cleared her throat. "Can we start now? You are 30 seconds late."

Mimi sighed. "First, I need to know who you all are. So, who here is…. Brad? Don't answer that," she added, embarrassed. She turned to the sleepy-looking guy. "I know it's you." She turned to the hyper woman. "And you are…?"

"DINA!" she said. Her breath was quick, and she spoke very quickly. Mimi began to wonder if Dina was on drugs.

"So," she said, turned to the snotty brunette. "You're Melinda?"

Melinda nodded.

"Well, I'm Mimi," said Mimi. "And, obviously, I'm your new teacher. So, if everyone could stand near the barre, with your hands at your sides."

"What position?" asked Melinda, confirming Mimi's suspicions.

"I'll tell you," she snapped in reply, "but first, put your fingertips on the barre. You should never have weight on it." When everyone had done this, she continued. "Now, stand with your heels together, and turn your legs out from your hips." She went down the line and corrected their positions. She tried not to show revulsion at pivoting Brad's legs the way he was supposed to. "Now, Melinda," she said, "you can't just turn out from the ankle. You'll hurt yourself. Turn out your whole leg." Melinda couldn't turn her feet out to the same 180-degree angle that she could with her feet. "I don't care how turned-out you are right now," Mimi coaxed. "Just as long as the technique is good. Turn-out comes later." After she said this, everyone allowed his or her position to get sloppy. Mimi sighed. "That doesn't mean be lazy! I still want you to work at it! That's what dance is!"

And so went the rest of the class. Brad nearly lost his balance doing a _tendu_, Dina actually _did_ lose her balance during _b__attements_, and Melinda was convinced she was perfect, when she was literally far from it.

When they did stretches on the floor, Mimi discovered that none of them could touch their toes, open their legs wider than 45 degrees in a straddle, or bend their backs while stretching in a butterfly position. She made it her goal to have them able to to all of those things by the time the session was over.

As soon as the class ended, Aine was back, harping on Mimi about Mark. Lucky for her, Pierre turned up, sent Aine home, and gave Mimi a piece of advice. Or harsh criticism.

"Mimi," he said, "you're a fabulous dancer, really. But you need to brush up on your ballet technique. You will be in the Ballet 5/Intermediate Pointe class here, tomorrow at seven. Do you understand?"

Mimi nodded. She understood that part of her pay would go towards her classes. She understood that she would have to be around Aine, with her obsession with Mark, more often. And she understood that she needed a new pair of pointe shoes. Great.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm updating! I start Pointe classes tonight myself (gulps), so I'm gonna go buy some shoes later, too! Mimi and I are twins! Lol**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…**

**Saran VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 7_

Mimi once again found herself in New Attitude, and oddly enough, it was the same girl there.

"Hello, Miss I-Don't-Like-Hot-Pink-Leotards!" the girl chirped.

Mimi frowned. "Well, so what if I don't like them? And my name is Mimi, not Miss I-Don't-Like-Hot-Pink-Leotards."

"Tally," said the girl. "So, what do you need today?"

"Pointe shoes."

"Pointe shoes? Why didn't you get them last time?"

"I didn't think I'd need them!"

"A dancer who thinks she doesn't need pointe shoes. Tut-tut," Tally scolded as she led Mimi over to the wall of shoes. "Pink, right?"

"There are other colors of pointe shoes?" Mimi gasped, seriously considering buying red or maybe even blue ones.

"There are if you special-order them for an extra $20," Tally informed her.

"Fine. Pink."

"Do you have a certain brand you like? Or is this your first pair?"

"It has been five years since I bought pointe shoes. I can hardly remember what brand my last ones were."

Tally sighed. "Is it possible for you to remember? Because otherwise we'll be here a _lot _longer than we need to be."

Mimi muttered something like "Blah" under her breath.

"Bloch?" asked Tally, who had no problem understanding Mimi.

She nodded. "I don't remember anything else."

"Take off your socks," Tally said simply.

"What?"

"Just do it! I need to look at your feet." Mimi pulled her knee-high black socks off, trying not to show her confusion.

Tally studied her feet, grabbed several shoeboxes, and told Mimi to try them on. Mimi couldn't get the first pair on her feet, and the second pair made her feet slip all over the place. The third pair was too tight in the toes. And so it went, pair after pair after pair, some too big, some too small, some not supportive enough, some too supportive. After half an hour of trying on shoes, she found a pair that fit. After paying for them, she dashed out to the car, where Joanne was waiting impatiently with Roger.

"Why does it take you so long to get shoes?" asked Roger scornfully.

"I had to find the perfect pair."

He sighed. "Typical. Now, come on! We have something we wanted to do before your class."

"What? Screw?" asked Mimi, and Joanne cracked up.

Roger hardly found it amusing. "No."

"What?"

"We're gonna crash Mark's date with Aine."

Mimi grinned.

* * *

Mark arrived at Aine's apartment early. He was about to knock on the door when it opened.

Aine's hair was loose (for once) and hanging to the small of her back. She was in a simple purple t-shirt and jeans. In her hands she held a pair of pointe shoes. "Oh, hi, Mark, come on in."

Mark walked in awkwardly. Aine's one bedroom apartment was small and cozy, as well as a bit of a mess. He sat on the bit of uncluttered couch that he could find. "Bad time?"

"No," she said, not turning away from the doorframe. "I'm just breaking in my new shoes. I got them this morning." She turned slightly, and Mark could see that she was bending the shoe to the shape of the doorframe.

"Aine… what are you…?" Before he could finish, Aine slammed the door shut with the shoe still against the frame. "What the hell?" he gasped.

Aine rolled her eyes. "Calm down," she said, opening the door and extracting her shoe, "I do this all the time, particularly when the annoying downstairs neighbors are home."

Mark felt sorry for those neighbors.

"I need to break them in somehow. And it's very good for anger management. If I didn't have pointe shoes to break in, I'd probably be a serial killer."

Mark didn't know whether to laugh or not. "Well, it's a good thing you're a dancer, then."

She smiled. "During _Nutcracker_, I was going through one pair a week. That was also the time that my ex decided that I wasn't enough company for him." She shoved her other shoe against the doorframe much more forcefully than was necessary.

"He cheated on you?"

"Yeah, he did! That good-for-nothing scumbag!" she growled, accenting "scumbag" with another slam of the door.

It was really good that she was taking it out on the shoes, and not her ex, Mark decided.

"That's why I've been harping on Mimi so much," Aine said, turning to him and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, she was complaining about that a little bit…"

"Well, I wanted to make sure that you were trustworthy! But then she told me about how Maureen cheated on you with a woman… ouch." She laughed a little.

Mark frowned.

"So, yeah." She shoved audition notices and programs from recitals and ballets off of the couch and sat beside Mark. They sat next to each other awkwardly for a couple minutes. "I'm gonna go change."

"Change?" asked Mark, as if it were a foreign concept.

"Yes! You think I'm going to wear this?" she laughed and went into the bedroom to change. She came out in five minutes flat in a sky-blue dress that Mark strongly believed had once been a dance costume. She had put on black eyeliner and bubble-gum pink lip-gloss. Her hair had been brushed, and it seemed to float in soft waves rather than hang from her head. She had pulled it out of her face with a clip. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Mark was amazed that she was able to look so good so quickly. "How did you _do_ that?" he asked in awe.

"I'm a dancer. I've been doing lightning-fast costume changes for years," she said with a shrug. Aine picked up a silver clutch from the table beside the couch.

Mark stood up. "Let's go."

Aine smiled and held his arm as they left. He tried not to show how happy this made him. But Aine noticed, and she felt the same way.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So… I'm updating! I know at least two people are excited (probably more, but whatever). Time for Aine and Mark's date! Oh, and dance class.**

**It's my birthday; make it happy by reviewing!**

**I don't have anything else to say, except that I don't own any of the RENT characters, and my friends thought up most of the OC's.**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…  
****Saran VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 8_

Mark and Aine went, of course, to the Life Café for dinner. Mimi, Maureen, Joanne, Roger, Angel, and Collins all decided that they wanted to go there, too.

It wasn't a coincidence, either. All six of them were astounded that Mark had gotten a girlfriend after following Mo like a lost puppy for two years after they broke up. They wanted to support him.

Or just make the date harder. One of the two.

The waiter, who "loved" the Bohemians soooo much, shoved Mark and Aine into a corner table. They simply sat, and talked, which the other six found extremely boring.

"I was hoping they would kiss," pouted Maureen. They were sitting at their usual tables, drinking their usual "wine and beer!"

"Yeah, well…" said Joanne, trying to think of a good excuse. Not finding one, she simply stopped talking.

Mimi sighed. "This sucks. I could be doing something useful."

"Like what?" asked Roger, seeming astounded that she had something useful to do.

"Sewing the ribbons and elastic onto my new shoes."

"Oh." He frowned. "I was hoping you would say something else."

"Like what?"

"I won't tell."

Mimi scowled.

Collins yawned, loudly and obviously. "If that boy doesn't make a move soon, I will go over there and shove their faces together."

Everyone laughed.

* * *

Aine noticed the other Bohos there, but she decided not to say anything to Mark about it. Instead, they chit-chatted and talked about anything and everything that they could think of.

At six-thirty, she got up, said, "I had a good time," to Mark, and got up to leave. On her way out, she stopped by Mimi, who was frantically sewing up her shoes. "Time for class."

"Shit!" Mimi cut the thread, gave Roger a peck on the cheek, and followed Aine out.

She hailed a taxi. "It wasn't a coincidence that you guys were there, was it?"

"Erm, no…" Mimi blushed.

"I didn't think so."

Mimi was still sewing her pointe shoes as the taxi pulled to the curb.

"I thought you finished!" Aine gasped.

Mimi gave her a death glare.

"Right, sorry. But, why did you come here instead of sewing your shoes _ahead of time_?"

Mimi didn't reply. She focused on her needle going through the satin, in and out, in and out.

When they got to Pierre's, they went to the dressing room to change. Mimi followed Aine (who was waiting impatiently for her) to the studio. They only stopped for a moment before entering to put rosin on the tips of their toes.

There were three other girls in the class, none of whom Mimi recognized. Aine, however, was in her element, and she rushed over to fill them in on everything that happened between her and Mark.

As Pierre strutted into the studio to begin the lesson, all five girls heard a faint beeping noise coming from someone's bag.

Pierre gave all of them a stern look over his long nose. "Whose is that?"

_Shit! AZT_. Mimi scampered into the dressing room, turned off her beeper, and quickly swallowed the pill. She dashed back and found all the girls staring at her just like Pierre was.

"What, Miss Marquez, was that?" he asked in an icy tone.

"My beeper," Mimi mumbled.

"Your beeper. And who was paging you?"

"No one."

"Then why did it go off?"

"As a reminder." She was avoiding his question, but she didn't care.

"Reminding you to do what? Come to class?"

Mimi was in half a mind to say yes. Instead, she was honest. "No, sir." _Suck-up_, she scolded herself. "It was reminding me to take my AZT."

Pierre tried not to show surprise. "Alright. We can begin now, yes?"

Mimi nodded.

"Very good. Line up at the barre."

* * *

"_AZT?!_ Why didn't you tell me?!" Aine pried after class.

Mimi simply pulled her shoes off with relief. She massaged her sore toes.

"What _is_ AZT?" asked one of the other girls, a tall South Asian who looked to be about 16.

"Medicine," said Mimi simply.

"It's not _just medicine_," said Aine, exasperated. "It's medicine that fights AIDS."

Mimi concentrated on turning her shirt right side out.

"AIDS? You have AIDS?" the girl asked bluntly.

Mimi pulled the black tee over her head.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Aine. "You think she takes AZT for fun?"

"It could happen!"

"You guys," Mimi croaked, "are the most insensitive warts I have ever met." She picked up her bag and left to hail a taxi, wondering what dark spirit caused her to use the word, "warts".


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hahaha Mimi called them warts… time to see what the Bohos thought of that!**** Oh, and Mimi meets up with some old friends…**

**Ha, I have a reference to the play I'm in (**_**You Can't Take it With You**_**) in this chapter. If you catch it, you win a prize (to be determined).**

**I'm seeing **_**RENT**_** in February! I have to wait for it to come to Chicago… I wish I could see it in New York!**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…**

**Saran VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 9_

"You called them _what_?" Roger gasped, trying not to laugh.

Mimi glared at him, and she looked even more menacing with her puffy red eyes.

Maureen couldn't control her laughter at all. She was practically rolling on the floor. Mimi glared at her, too.

"I'm sorry, Chica," said Angel, patting her friend on the shoulder.

Mimi sniffed. She didn't deserve Angel's sympathy. Neither of them had forgotten what Mimi had called her. But she simply said, "Thanks, Ang," and she meant it.

Roger wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "So, you have a class Saturday, yes?"

Mimi nodded. "I don't want to go!" she insisted. "I am not in the mood for those preschoolers right now!"

"Were you ever?" asked Angel.

"Not really, but still! Do I have to go?"

"You sound like you're _attending_ the class, not teaching it," noted Joanne.

Mimi glared at her, too. "You try it. I don't want to go. I'll say that I'm sick, and Pierre had _better_ believe it."

At this inopportune moment, the phone rang.

"Speeeaak!!"

"Um, Miss Marquez, this is Pierre from the studio. We would like you to attend our free ballet workshop tomorrow. We're going to have some great professionals there, and… well, we think it would be good for you to have the experience." He coughed and hung up.

Joanne, Maureen, Mark, Roger, Angel, and Collins all gave Mimi expectant looks. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. No way." Mimi shook her head vigorously.

"Come on, Mimi. Who knows? Those girls may not even be there!" Joanne pointed out.

"Please, Meems? You know you need to keep this job if you don't want to go back to the Catscratch. And we know how much you _hated_ the Catscratch," Roger added.

"Roger, I think you minded me working there more than I did." She glanced at them all again. "But, if you guys keep looking at me like that, I guess I'll go. Anyway, it's free lessons, right?"

Joanne was wrong. All of Mimi's classmates were there, as well of some other girls Mimi knew.

Her ex-coworkers from the Catscratch Club stood in a corner of the studio, looking awkward in their short cotton shorts and sports bras. Their eyes lit up when they saw Mimi enter the room.

"Mimichica!" called one of them. She was tall and dark, with her hair pulled up so tight that it was raising her eyebrows a little bit. She waved.

She had never been glad to see them. Celine, a small Russian girl with way too much eyeshadow on; Carlita, who could've probably passed as Mimi's sister; and Jasmine, the girl who had waved. "Hey!"

"So, where have you been? And what is _this_?" asked Celine, pulling the sleeve of Mimi's leotard. "Bit fancy, isn't it?"

Mimi laughed. "You should talk. You have rhinestones covering your ass!" She gestured at Celine's sequined shorts.

"You should see her underwear," Carlita added in an undertone.

"It would be a pleasure," said Mimi, acting as if it was the greatest honor anyone could bestow upon her.

"Anyway," added Celine, "my shorts probably cost less than your leotard. And that _includes_ the underwear."

"Why? How much were they?"

"Free."

"What?"

"Yeah," agreed Jasmine, smirking, "she stole 'em."

Mimi snorted. "You girls still go shoplifting every week, then?"

"Yeah," answered Carlita. "It's not like the boss gives us the option of actually paying, though. Do you know that he reduced our salary _again_? I swear, I might leave, too. The Man isn't very happy with me."

"What did you do now?" asked Mimi, exasperated. Carlita made The Man mad every other week.

"I've been buying on credit," she replied, "and now I owe him one thousand dollars."

"Are you insane?!"

"Aren't we all?" replied Jasmine. "Besides, I'd rather be high while giving drunks lap dances, if you please."

"But Mimi did it without drugs for a couple weeks," Celine countered. "How was it, Meems?"

"Awful. Why do you think I quit?"

"Ladies," called Pierre, walking into the studio. He immediately began a monologue that reminded Mimi of her high school history teacher's boring hour-long lectures. "Most of you aren't ballet dancers. Now, I know some of you are," he corrected as Aine and a couple other girls opened their mouths angrily, "but it seems that many of you are here to… expand your boundaries."

"Oh, my boundaries are about as expanded as they could ever be," whispered Carlita, and Jasmine giggled.

"Eh-HEM," he coughed, glaring at the two girls. They stopped and faced him; they stood as if they were in the army. "We have a great guest artist with us today: ladies and gentlemen, this is Essie Kirby."

Essie was slight and tall. She was an Arabic woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, which peered out at the girls like tiny insects. She smiled like a shark. "Good evening."

"As some of you may already know…" Aine had squealed. "Essie is famous in her home country's ballet company, and she has decided to try and get a job in New York. She arrived last night."

"Well, it is great to meet all of you. Now, stand at the _barre_, and we will begin." Clearly Essie was all business.

All twenty girls stood at the barre, facing Essie. Several of the girls were ecstatic, a few were smiling blankly, and Celine was picking the nail polish off of her fingernails. Essie walked over, carrying a yardstick, and slapped Celine's hand. "You will pay attention in my class or you will be thrown out. No warnings."

Celine scowled and shook her sore hand. She turned to Mimi, who merely shrugged.

"Now, girls. We begin…"

_Beep, beep_…

_Dammit!_ Mimi hurried out to her bag and took the pill. When she got back to the studio, the girls were doing their _plies_.

"Those girls who leave without permission do not get to learn the steps," said Essie coldly.

"But-"

"No buts! You will watch for the rest of the class! Those who do not wish to learn have no place here."

Mimi scowled. This was why she had quit ballet in the first place. All of her teachers just didn't understand why she wasn't devoted 199 percent to it. And now she was being kicked out of class for taking her AZT.

"I was taking my AZT," she said boldly to Essie.

"I care not. You could wait until break to take it."

"No, I couldn't." Mimi said. She racked her brain, trying to remember what her doctor had said when she received her first bottle. "If I skip a dose, the virus could mutate, making it almost impossible to treat," she said simply. "It could _kill_ me."

Most of the girls had stopped with their dancing by now. A couple people were impressed by Mimi's boldness, while several of them were cheering her on. Celine gave Essie the finger.

"I care not," Essie repeated. "Leave."

"Fine." Mimi stormed out of the studio. As she passed by Pierre, she said simply, "I quit."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: SIXTY REVIEWS! SIXTY REVIEWS! Come on, you guys, keep it up! You make my day! I'm a happy person!**

**More OCs! Omigosh, I'm like, **_**addicted**_** to OCs… oh well. I promised my friend, Joanne, that she'd get one, so she does in this chapter.**

**Incidentally, Joanne is also the only one who caught the reference in the previous chapter (probably just because she goes to school with me, lol). The reference was Essie Kirby's name. Wikipedia **_**You Can't Take It With You**_** if you're curious as to why, because I'm not telling you! So, Joanne, your reward is that your OC is going to end up as somewhat of a main character. Yay!**

**Ok, this author's note is officially way too long, so I'm gonna start the actual story.**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…**

**Saran VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 10_

Mimi waited on the steps for her ride home. She was all spit and fire still, however, so instead of sitting quietly, she was pacing. It was a couple hours later when the class let out. Aine and her friends came out tired, sweaty, and looking as though they had just had the time of their lives. When Aine spotted Mimi sulking by the steps, wondering where the hell Joanne was, she told her friends, "You guys go without me. I'll see you in jazz tomorrow." The girls nodded, smiled, and left, chattering.

"Mimi?" asked Aine. "Are you really quitting?"

"No, it was a joke," Mimi sneered. "Of _course_ I am! I don't belong in a dance studio, all done up in a leotard and tights and false eyelashes and stage make-up! It's just not what I do!" She turned to the door, which had just opened; Jasmine, Carlita, and Celine were headed out.

"I hate ballet," Celine decided, wiping sweat off of her forehead. "It's stupid. There is _no_ reason for it at all."

"Control and flexibility?" suggested Jasmine helpfully.

"Bet Mimi could tell us the point of ballet," Carlita pointed out. "Hey, Meems!" she hollered.

Mimi eagerly got up to join them. "Yes?"

"What's the point of ballet?"

"What Jasmine said. Where are you girls going?"

"Well, I need a hit. Desperately," said Carlita. "Looks like I'm going to add to my debt."

"Here, I'll come with you," Jasmine offered. "We'll see what he can do to you with two of us there."

"Thanks," Carlita replied gratefully. "See you at work, Celine!"

"Bye!" And with that, Celine turned to Mimi. "Apparently Keiko sees the point of ballet. She's signing Mai up."

"She is?" Mimi was interested. Keiko was another of her ex-coworkers, the single mother of a four-year-old Mai. Mimi would watch Mai if Keiko had a "one-on-one" meeting with one of the guys from the Catscratch. She was the only girl to offer these services, and it was rumored that Mai's dad was one of Keiko's first customers. "Where?"

"Here. That's why Jasmine, Carlita, and I came. To check out the studio, and see if everything is okay here. I'm telling her it's not."

At this point, Aine slipped into the conversation. "I hate to interrupt…"

"Too late," snapped Celine with a cool tone.

"But the kid's classes are nothing like that. Mimi teaches them. Ask her."

"You do?" Celine perked up. "I'll tell Keiko to take Mai to class tomorrow, then!"

"I did," Mimi corrected, "but I just quit."

"Oh, come on, Mimi, we aren't all like Essie. She's just something stuck up her ass," Aine said. "Besides, you got Tina and Frankie to actually _dance_. The most I could ever hope for was to get them to stop yelling."

"Please? Mai knows you a little. She might cooperate for you."

"Mai doesn't cooperate for anyone," contradicted Mimi. "But, fine. Aine, tell your uncle that I'll see him Saturday."

Aine grinned. "Tell Mark to call me tomorrow at four."

_

* * *

That Saturday…_

* * *

"I'm gonna get you this time, Tina! I swear I will!" Frankie's battle cry was Mimi's greeting that Saturday morning.

Mimi was determined to act good-natured this time. "Hi, Frankie. Hi, Tina."

Tina stopped running and ran over to the barre. "Can we do gwand botmas this week, teachew?" she asked. "You pwomised that we could."

"If you guys cooperate for the first half of class, we can. How's that?" Mimi asked her, stooping down to the little girl's level. Tina jumped up and down and clapped.

"Mimi? That is you, yes?" Keiko headed over to where Mimi was standing.

"Hey, Keiko. Good to see you. And, is this Mai?" she asked, glancing at the small four-year-old holding Keiko's hand.

"Yes. Mai, do you know Mimi?"

Mai shook her head silently. She was a tiny, slender little Japanese girl whose long black hair was twisted into a bun. She wore a black leotard and a sky-blue skirt, and her legs were naturally turned-out.

"Well, you will know her soon. I will see you after the class, okay?" Keiko hugged her daughter and left.

Mai simply stood and blinked up at Mimi. She turned at saw that Tina and Frankie had (gasp!) already taken a place at the barre and were gripping it tightly. She silently joined them, except she held the barre properly. Mimi headed over to the radio in the corner. "Are you guys ready?" asked Mimi.

"Yes!" chorused Frankie and Tina loudly. Mai simply nodded.

"Then, do you two remember what we need last week?"

"PLEEZ!" yelled Frankie loudly.

Mimi nodded approval. "How do you do plies?"

"Wike this!" called Tina, bending her knees.

"Good job. If I start the music, will you be ready do them?"

"Yes!"

"Let's go!" And Mimi started the music. "Ready? Go."

Frankie and Tina began their awkward plies, but Mai didn't.

"Oh boy. Mai, Mai, can you please do this with us?"

Stubbornly, Mai shook her head.

"Please?"

Another head shake.

"Please?"

"NO!" Mai yelled loudly.

"Oh, boy."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Wheeeeeeee!!!!! Happy holidays everyone; here is my gift to you!**

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…**

**Saran VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 11_

"Mai, can you please try?" Mimi begged.

Mai shook her head. "No! I don't want to! I want to go home!"

"But Mai, dancing is FUN!" squealed Tina, still doing plies.

"No it's not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is _too_!" Tina shrieked, and Frankie stopped his plies as he stared at the little girl.

"GIRLS!" barked Mimi, stopped them before they started hurting each other. "Please!"

"I was doing them, teachew!" Tina objected.

Mimi would have laughed if the situation had been different. "Stop fighting or no grand battements for you."

"But I wanna do the gwand botmas today! You promised!"

"I said if you're good."

"But I am good! I was dancin'!"

"Well, you were also yelling. You aren't supposed to yell in a dance studio."

"Oh," she whispered very quietly. "I'm sowwy."

"Thank you. Can we continue?"

"Yes!" chorused Tina and Frankie.

Mai shook her head.

"Turn to the other side, so we can do more plies."

Two of the students obeyed. Bet you can guess which.

"Mai, if you don't want to dance, then you can watch."

After class, Mimi changed and went to talk to Keiko. "Keiko?"

"You were mean to my little girl?" the woman hissed.

"No… I mean… she wasn't cooperating," Mimi sputtered.

"You made her sit out."

"I asked her to if she wasn't going to dance."

"She says she danced."

Mai's face was red from crying as she peeked out from behind her mom.

"She didn't. I asked her to, and she refused. Keiko," she said, trying to be kind, "I honestly don't know if Mai is ready for a dance class yet."

"She is ready. Her mother is a dancer. She must be a dancer."

"Yes, but not _yet_."

"Yes, yet."

"Fine, if that's your attitude. But let her know that if she doesn't dance next week, I'm having her sit out again."

"She says she danced."

"Tell her."

"Yes, _mademoiselle_." With that, she and Mai left.

Aine was in the studio as soon as Keiko and Mai were out. "You know her?"

"We've met." Mimi said nothing more.

"Those girls yesterday…" Aine started, and Mimi held her breath. "How did you know them?"

"Why do you ask?"

"They just don't seem very… good. Normal. That sort of thing."

Mimi's hand went to the track marks on her arm, which her sweater thankfully covered. "So?"

"So, why were you hanging out with them? You don't seem like the kind of person to do drugs and steal and… strip," she said the last word softly to hide it from the ears of the parents nearby.

"Oh, you have no idea."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why am I friends with them? Because, Aine, I'm _one _of them! I started working at the Catscratch the week I was able to work without parental permission! I had to earn a living somehow. You don't have to worry about rent, and where you're next meal is coming from, or… _anything_! None of you get it! Did you ever wonder where I got AIDS from in the first place?"

Aine was silent. "Sorry, Mimi. I really… I had no idea. I'm sorry."

"Good."

There was silence. The phone at the front desk rang, and Aine picked it up. "Hello?" She paused, then handed Mimi the phone.

"Hello?" asked Mimi angrily.

"It's Jasmine." Jasmine's voice cracked, and Mimi knew something was wrong.

"Mimi… I don't know how to say this."

"Just go!"

"Carlita's dead."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I couldn't resist…

**A/N: So, over the past, ummm, million years that have passed since I updated I have had three life-changing experiences involving theatre.**

**1) I saw RE**_**N**_**T on Saturday, February 16****th****. It was sooooo amazing. Seriously, if the touring cast happens to be coming to a city near you, do yourself a favor and **_**see it**_**. They were phenomenal. I was amazed and astonished and it made me happy.**

**2) I was in **_**Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat**_** at my school, which has the NUMBER ONE FINE ARTS PROGRAM IN THE COUNTRY, (not to brag or anything), so of course it was amazing. So much fun!!**

**3) Last (but not least) and most life-changing… I saw a show called **_**columbinus**_**, about the Columbine shooting. Don't get the wrong idea (i.e. thinking that it was melodramatic, inaccurate, ect, ect), because it was seriously AMAZING!! I was watching it, and all the characters seemed like people that could go to my school.**

**Wow, that was long.**

**Now, I shall update for all you little people! **

**THIMBLES! And on with the fic…**

**Saran VD**

Five, Six, Seven, Eight

_Chapter 12_

"She died? But yesterday… she was just fine yesterday!" Mimi was astonished. There was no logical reason for one of her best friends to just drop dead. Carlita had, so far, been one of the lucky ones who hadn't caught the HIV virus yet. "There was no good reason! Healthy people don't spontaneously _die_!"

"It wasn't spontaneous. It was murder."

"It couldn't be… what? Murder? But…"

"The Man did it," Jasmine croaked. "At least, that's what we all suspect. He was pissed… and for good reason. Carlita just stretched him thin."

"So he killed her?"

"He hid the evidence well. Gave her an abnormally pure dose this time. She overdosed _horribly_, and died within an hour." She was crying softly into the phone. "I was with her the whole time. I just thought her stomach was bothering her, but she started ignoring me… she wouldn't respond when I asked her something. It was _scary_. I could… I could've stopped it, Mimi. I could've saved her."

Mimi was shaking. "Did you tell anyone?"

"That The Man is a murderer? I don't even know his real _name_. Yeah, the police will be very understanding of that."

"Just tell them what you know! It'll be something."

"I'll get myself in trouble. How do I explain the fact that I know him? And The Man will come after me if I squeal. No way."

"But Jasmine…"

"Bye, Mimi." She hung up.

"What the fuck?" Mimi hissed at the phone. She hung up herself and collapsed in a chair, twisting her curls in circles around her finger. Aine sat beside her.

"Who died?"

"Carlita," Mimi whispered. "The girl who was here the other day. One of my friends."

"Which one?"

"With a name like Carlita, who do you think?"

"Oh. You should've seen her after you left. So disrespectful," she muttered. "She was making fun of _everything_."

Mimi frowned at her.

"Not to be disrespectful myself," she amended quickly. "But she clearly didn't want to be there."

"You think I'm here by choice?"

"Yes, I do, actually."

"I'm not," Mimi snorted. She grabbed her dance bag, and left.

* * *

As soon as she got back to the loft, Mimi collapsed onto the couch, finally letting herself cry. Roger, who was sitting at the Infamous Table, writing, asked, "Are you okay?"

The fact that Roger was enough of an idiot to ask if she was ok while she was crying just heaped on to all of her crazy angry emotions. "No, I'm not okay, Roger. I had a crap day at work, this girl in my class is a little manipulative weasel, and Jasmine just called me."

"Yeah, she called here earlier. I gave her the studio's phone number. Is that a problem?"

"Not her calling. But what she had to say is... well..." The tears fell even faster. She didn't want to say "Carlita's dead," out loud. There was no denial possible if she said the whole phrase aloud. "Bad," she finished, barely managing to choke the words out.

Finally, Roger caught on to the fact that his girlfriend was crying her eyes out. Feeling slightly ashamed, he left his notebook where it was and joined her on the couch. "How bad?"

"Really bad." Mimi wiped here eyes and looked Roger in the eye. "Carlita… you remember her?"

"I barely _knew_ her. You didn't want them flirting with me, so we didn't talk much."

Mimi laughed, but it ended up sounding more like a gargle.

"What happened to her? She didn't…" One look at Mimi's face confirmed his suspicions. "My God, how the hell did that happen?" He pulled Mimi into a tight embrace.

Mimi wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. "She's dead, Roger. The Man… he killed her. I- I- I… Jasmine... she said that Carlita overdosed. And The Man made sure of it."

"And this is a surprise? Mimi, you and I used to be some of his most loyal customers. And this sounds just like him."

"But that's just it!" Mimi sniffed. "It could've been _me_. Roger, if you hadn't gotten me to stop using… if Mark hadn't found me the job… it could be _my_ funeral that was happening Sunday, and Carlita sitting here sobbing."

"First of all, I don't think you would've done anything that would make him want to kill you. Second, I wouldn't have let you do anything that would make him want to kill you. And third," Roger kissed the top of her head, "I'm so sorry, Meems. If there's anything I can do to make you feel better, name it, and I will."

Mimi sniffed, looked at him, and smiled. "Thanks, Roger."


End file.
